


Interspecies Mingling

by shakti108



Series: Mingling [1]
Category: Bon Jovi (Band)
Genre: 1980s, First Kiss, Humor, M/M, TV watching
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-04
Updated: 2018-12-04
Packaged: 2019-09-07 11:14:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,420
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16852969
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shakti108/pseuds/shakti108
Summary: A hotel room in 1985 ...





	Interspecies Mingling

**Author's Note:**

> Part of a series of fics in which Jon and Richie watch TV, and do other things. For this one, I was inspired by an article I read about instances where deer and foxes, and other strange animal couples, have been caught getting cozy. The scientists interviewed were speculating on the reasons for such interspecies mingling. One came to this conclusion: "Getting licked just feels good."

"Dude, seriously. What is this _Wild Kingdom_ shit?"

Richie flopped dramatically onto Jon's bed, sort of next to him -- but at an angle, so he wasn't technically lying with him.

At this point in the tour, after sharing countless hotel rooms, Jon had gotten used to it. He'd even decided to stop wondering why Richie always felt the need to toss himself across _his_ bed, when his own bed was about five feet away.

At least that's what he'd decided. He couldn't help it if the question kept rearing its ugly head anyway.

Jon shifted to sit up higher against the headboard. That had become his main strategy for dealing with boundary-challenged guitarists sprawled out on his bed. It seemed less weird when one of them was officially sitting.

"There has got to be something better on," Richie bitched to the ceiling.

"Don't care," Jon replied. "I like it."

Really, he'd just been flipping through the channels for the sake of using the remote, since his TV at home didn't have one. But now that he knew the random nature show was annoying Richie, he decided to keep it on.

He was bored, and bugging Richie was fun.

"C'mon, Jonny."

"I'm watching this," Jon said calmly. "And I was here first. You can go back out, y'know."

"I'm tired," Richie whined shamelessly. "I just wanna watch something."

"Then watch this."

Predictably, Richie sighed and rolled onto his side to face the TV. His legs were hanging awkwardly off the bed, but he apparently preferred that to moving to his own side of the room.

Jon refused to think about the reasons.

Instead he turned his attention to the nature-show narrator, who was babbling about deer on some California island. They were famous, it turned out, for licking and cuddling with animals of other species, like foxes and raccoons.

 _Such interspecies mingling is unusual,_ the narrator said, in one of those phony accents that was vaguely British. _And the motivation behind this behavior is hard to understand._

They cut to a shot of a little deer earnestly licking behind a fox's ears.

 _Regardless,_ the narrator said, _this little guy certainly seems to like it._

On cue, the fox closed his eyes and scrunched up his face so that it looked like he was smiling.

Richie pointed at the TV. "OK, that is fucking precious."

Jon couldn't help chuckling.

Richie flipped onto his belly to look at him, dopey grin in place. Jon never understood why his friend got such a kick out of making him laugh, but he'd learned to accept it.

"However," Richie continued, bending his knees and knocking his sock-clad feet together. "I don't know why the nature guy is so shocked. This behavior was well-documented in _The Fox and the Hound._ "

" _The Fox and the Hound?_ " Jon asked incredulously. "That cartoon movie? Weren't you, like, twenty when that came out?"

"Yeah -- twenty-one, maybe. What's your point?"

Jon raised an eyebrow. "That you're weird."

Richie shrugged. "When have I ever denied that?"

Jon had no argument.

 _It's an unusual sight, indeed,_ the narrator's voice intoned. _Here we see two creatures curious enough to give each other a closer look, even though instinct tells them they shouldn't._

Richie stuck his bottom lip out, then turned toward the TV. "How do you know what their instincts are telling them, Marlin?"

"It's not Marlin," Jon pointed out. "Not every nature show is _Wild Kingdom,_ you know."

Richie responded with a _hmm,_ apparently absorbed in the way the deer and the fox were now snuggling with each other.

Jon used his foot to nudge Richie's shoulder. Just because.

"Anyway," he prodded, "who are you to question the nature guy?"

Richie looked at him, appearing genuinely offended.

Jon smiled. "Oh, right. You've seen _The Fox and the Hound._ "

Richie just smiled back, and Jon tried to ignore the little tingle in his belly.

A science guy appeared on screen, drawing Richie's attention again. He explained that there were no large predators on this particular island, and it's likely the resident animals had never learned to fear unfamiliar creatures.

 _It's the perfect setting for random acts of interspecies mingling,_ Science Guy said.

 _But,_ he continued, _these random acts are probably nothing more than that -- with no significance beyond satisfying a curiosity, or dealing with boredom._

The narrator broke in: _So maybe we don't need any profound explanation. Maybe the motivation behind this interspecies mingling is quite simple._

_Getting licked just feels good._

Richie snorted, and Jon found himself laughing, too.

"Yes, Marlin," Richie said, flopping onto his back and giggling like a little kid. "I think you're onto something."

Jon just watched him for a few moments, noticing how a hint of a smile stayed behind even after the giggling faded. Richie always seemed so damn happy, in a way he couldn't really grasp.

Jon cleared his throat. "I told you that's not Marlin."

He was completely caught off guard when Richie suddenly flipped over and lunged for the remote. Jon did manage to toss it to the floor before it could be snatched away. But the much bigger problem was, Richie was now lying partway on top of him and their faces were inches apart.

Richie licked his lips. "I don't care," he said with an odd smile. "I call him Marlin."

Jon felt like his heart was beating out of his chest. He'd never been so close to Richie when they were … horizontal. It was freaking him out -- mainly because he knew he should push the nut case off, but he didn't actually want to.

"Um." Jon forced a little laugh. "OK. You do that."

When Richie didn't move, Jon started to feel that weird sensation in his belly again -- except maybe a little lower down this time.

He knew he could shove Richie away, or just stand up. He wasn't pinned down or anything. But for some reason, he stayed put.

"If you wanna watch something else, that's fine," he offered, lamely.

Richie cast his eyes down a bit, looking at Jon's lips. "I'm bored," he said softly. Jon's breath caught as he felt fingertips on his ribs.

Richie bit his lip. "And I'm curious."

Jon held perfectly still as Richie leaned in and began to nuzzle his neck. And even though he'd known something like that was coming, the actual feeling of Richie touching him set off alarm bells in his brain.

_What the fucking hell?_

There was a voice, probably the voice of reason, screaming at him to shove Richie off -- to shove him all the way back to fucking New Jersey. But there was another voice, probably from somewhere in his pants, telling him nothing mattered except that hot breath on his neck.

"Rich," he croaked. "What …"

Richie just shifted up a bit and placed his lips by Jon's ear. Jon thought he was going to say something, so he gasped when Richie darted his tongue out and licked along the shell of his ear.

"Jesus Christ, Rich."

It was just a reaction, Jon realized, and not a protest -- because he still had no desire to move. He simply grabbed the fabric of Richie's t-shirt.

"You want me to stop?" Richie whispered next to his ear.

Jon drew a shaky breath and kept clutching at the shirt.

Richie touched the tip of his tongue to the soft skin behind Jon's ear, then spoke again. "Or maybe this just feels good?"

"Yeah," Jon breathed. "That."

He felt Richie's smile as those lips started exploring his jawline, then his neck, then his collarbone -- exposed as it was by his tank top. Jon mentally congratulated himself on his wardrobe choices for the day.

Richie eventually moved to the other ear, lavishing it with the same attention, and Jon's chest started heaving. He knew this was so, so wrong, and a part of him wanted to understand why it was happening now. He wasn't drunk, and he couldn't smell any alcohol on Richie.

He could admit there'd been times, when they were drunk, that he'd thought they were on the verge of crossing some line. But he could always chalk that up to impaired judgment and hormonal surges with no outlet.

There was no excuse for this.

 _Fuck,_ Jon cursed himself, even as he began to tug Richie's t-shirt up.

He ran his fingertips over Richie's lower back, finding the skin there scorching hot -- and surprisingly smooth. It made him want to feel even more.

"Fuck," he said out loud.

Richie paused, his head buried in the curve of Jon's neck. "Don't, Jonny," he murmured, then raised his head a bit. "Just let it feel good."

Jon sighed in exasperation. "This -- this isn't normal. How can you just …?"

"You say that," Richie said playfully. "But I can't help noticing you're trying to get my shirt off."

"Because you're _licking_ me like a fucking deer," Jon ground out.

He was pissed because his fingertips were still gliding up Richie's spine, and he couldn't fucking help it.

Richie laughed softly. "Marlin should set up his cameras in here."

"Rich," Jon groaned. "For Christ's sake, be serious."

Richie responded by landing a few light kisses along Jon's neck. "Actually," he went on glibly, "Marlin wouldn't be interested. We're the same species."

Jon scoffed. "Yeah, well, I'm not so sure."

Richie stilled then lifted up -- enough that Jon felt a rush of cool air and, if he were honest, a distinct loss.

Richie eyed him for a moment before speaking. "You said it felt good," he pointed out, mildly. "Are you changing your mind?"

"Yes," Jon said automatically. "I mean, no."

Richie nodded. "Glad that's settled."

Jon felt a flare of anger. "Hey," he said, sitting up. "You can't just start licking me and expect me to react rationally."

Richie furrowed his brow. "I don't want you to react rationally. I want you to do what you feel."

Jon growled in frustration. "Well … I feel confused, OK?"

Richie nodded again. "All right. But," he added, "if you really wanted to punch me, you would've done it already."

Jon just stared, because it was true, of course. He was pissed, but not because he didn't want this.

He was pissed because Richie had, without warning, pushed them past the line. And Jon was incapable of pulling them back. He'd been keeping such careful control over the situation; if it was going to change -- ever -- he'd decide when.

And now … Losing control was not OK.

He looked Richie in the eyes. "Just take your fucking shirt off."

Richie blinked. "What?"

Jon tried not to smile as he sensed the tables swiftly turning. "You said you want me to do what I feel," he said, deliberately pronouncing the words. "Do you need me to take it off for you?"

Richie's eyes widened. "Um. No, that's …"

Jon felt a heat building in his face as Richie followed orders, so he ducked his head a bit to hide it.

"OK," Richie said, trying to sound to casual. "So now --"

He yelped as Jon shoved him onto his back.

"OK," Richie repeated, and Jon had to smile at the quaver in his voice.

He leaned down and got close to Richie's ear. "Be careful what you wish for, Sambora."

He licked a line along the side of Richie's neck, drawing a gasp, then lifted up to grin at his friend in smug satisfaction.

"No, it's cool," Richie assured him, the little tremble still evident. "I'm totally OK with this."

Jon dipped down again -- before he could accidentally flash a genuine smile -- and started to mouth along the base of Richie's throat.

Richie instantly slid his hands under Jon's shirt and arched his chest up so wantonly, Jon was taken by surprise.

"Huh," he observed. "You're as easy as that little fox, aren't you?"

"Yes," Richie confirmed, pressing up again.

"Enh," Jon said, denying him the contact. "I don't remember the deer giving any nipple action. It was sweeter." He moved up to nuzzle behind Richie's ear. "Like this."

"Well, I don't remember the deer telling the fox to strip," Richie countered, obviously getting testy.

Jon huffed a little laugh and felt Richie shiver in response to his breath. He couldn't say he wasn't interested in taking this farther. He was the one who'd escalated things, after all.

But all of a sudden he was hearing the echo of certain words. Something about random acts with _no significance beyond satisfying a curiosity, or dealing with boredom._

Jon was pretty sure this wasn't happening just because there was nothing good on TV. But he still had a twinge of uncertainty. And for all his desire to take charge, he wasn't actually sure how far to go right now.

He didn't even realize he'd frozen until he felt fingertips massaging the nape of his neck. "Hey," Richie said softly. "It's fine. I just thought you wanted to …"

Jon raised his head. "No, I do. I mean, I want … you."

Richie smiled, and Jon suddenly felt like an awkward fourteen-year-old again. He looked to the side, toward the nightstand lamp. "I'm sorry. I just wanna … you know."

"Yeah. I know."

Jon sighed in relief and laid his head on Richie's shoulder. That was one of the reasons he put up with a boundary-challenged guitarist who wouldn't stay out of his bed. Richie almost always understood what he meant even when he had no words.

Jon planted a soft kiss on his chest. "So. Since you've seen Disney movies on the subject, do you think the deer and the fox took it slow in the beginning?"

Richie chuckled. "I think so. You could tell they really cared about each other, y'know?"

He said it sarcastically but Jon caught the message. "Yeah," he agreed.

They lay in silence for a while, and Jon found himself reaching out to trace a haphazard pattern on Richie's belly.

"Hey, Rich," he said.

"Yeah?"

Jon pushed up to look at him. "Do you think the deer and the fox sometimes give each other blow jobs?"

Richie actually started choking, and Jon felt his smugness returning. It wasn't often he managed to shock Richie, but he'd done it a couple times in the past half-hour. This relationship could get pretty interesting, he realized.

"You are sick, my friend," Richie pronounced once he'd recovered.

Then he smiled coyly. "And yes, in my expert opinion, they absolutely do."

Jon returned the smile. "Fantastic."

He rested his head on Richie's shoulder again and closed his eyes.

END


End file.
